


Frederick, Maryland: The Epilogue

by kashmir



Series: Kings Among Runaways [4]
Category: The Faculty (1998)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-14
Updated: 2005-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-08 16:00:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kashmir/pseuds/kashmir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twelve years down the road -- how have they fared?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frederick, Maryland: The Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> Is part of my [Kings Among Runaways](http://www.livejournal.com/users/kashmir1s_fic/7306.html) 'verse. The epilogue -- just for you, Lee, on your birthday. ♥

Casey had his writing room set up in what was called the spare bedroom. He wasn't sure who ever decided it was large enough for a spare bedroom - there was barely room in there for his writing desk and bookshelves, let alone a bed or any other kind of bedroom furniture. But he liked it. It suited him. The window he had set his desk up underneath got the afternoon sunlight, which was his favorite time to write.

Zeke had claimed the patio as his space. A stainless steel grill along with mismatched patio furniture and some tiki lanterns made up the area. He loved spending hours out there at night, after coming home from the bar, grilling steaks and listening to Bob Marley. They often ate outside, on the two chairs, the small table lit only by citronella candle light. Zeke loved being able to spend evenings with Casey -- he liked to joke and say maybe it did pay to be the boss sometimes, being able to leave and make other people work night shifts all the time.

The living room was both their spaces. Zeke's large monstrosity he called his television took up one whole corner. His leather sofa took up another. He spent many a long hours there in the winter when it was too cold to go outside to grill and lay about in his hammock. Casey's presence was felt in the books. On the bookshelves, the end tables and the coffee tables. Casey's own photography books -- of people, places and things in the District of Columbia -- were on the coffee table. Two of them and they were pestering him for a third. His first two novels were on the bookshelves to the right of the TV. Both based on political scandals Casey had been lucky enough to scoop while working for a paper in DC. They'd turned into lucrative book deals and he was now working on his third book. This one, however, was fiction and Casey was over the moon about it. Zeke loved to brag about him when he'd come into his bar and grill to eat lunch, making Casey's ears turn pink at the tips.

The kitchen was again, both their spaces, as they enjoyed making meals together but more often than not, it was unofficially Zeke's domain. He had somehow managed to pick up culinary skills somewhere and loved to cook for them. In the winter months when he couldn't grill, he was always puttering in the kitchen.

Most nights, they made their meals together, Casey coming downstairs after writing all afternoon and Zeke would be just getting started after taking a shower after work. They'd go about their tasks, asking about each other's day. Casey would tell Zeke about any new developments with the book, Zeke would somehow always have amusing anecdotes about patrons at the bar. They'd eat at their kitchen table, the setting intimate and cozy. After dinner it would be to the living room, after the dishes and cleaning up were taken care of, of course. They'd sit together on the couch, watching a movie or maybe just something on TV, Zeke's arm around Casey or Zeke's head in Casey's lap. When it got late, they'd quietly go about turning off lights and appliances, locking up before heading to bed.

On those nights, the lovemaking was soft and tender and full of love. They came with whispered endearments on their lips and fell asleep cuddled close to one another. These were the nights Casey treasured.

Other nights, Zeke would come home and drag Casey out. They'd eat at one of Zeke's rivals and then Zeke would almost always feel superior when either the food or service or even in some cases, both, were not up to par. They'd end up bar hopping then, club after club, faces blurring the more they drank, the later it got. Zeke felt the need to do this sometimes and Casey loved to indulge him. He loved watching him among their friends, people they had met and gotten to know within weeks of moving to Frederick. They laughed and danced and drank and stumbled home late. These nights ended with Zeke pressing Casey into the wood of their front door, tongue hot and hands frantic.

On these nights heir lovemaking would be fast and rough and sometimes, brutal. They came with shouts of fuck and oh God and sometimes each other's names. They fell asleep stuck to one another, the sweat not yet dry on their skin. Zeke thrived on these nights.

All in all, they had a good life. They had friends, they had careers, they had a gorgeous home, they had security. Most importantly, they had each other for over twelve years now, ever since Zeke had slammed a note down in front of Casey in study hall.

They'd managed to make a life together. They couldn't have been happier.


End file.
